


Back to Earth

by Megalohdon



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A lot of angst for now, AU, Angel!Phichit, Character Death, Fluff and Angst, I will have more tags to add later but right now adding more will spoil the end!, M/M, Slow Burn, angel!Yuuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-13 14:16:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9127381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megalohdon/pseuds/Megalohdon
Summary: “Right, sorry. You’re what we call an Earth Angel. Have you heard of those before?”Thick brows furrowed in thought, mind attempting to think back to all his previous mortal years for any semblance of recognition towards the term. Earth Angel? He had heard the song, sure. It was an old tune, slow and romantic, but it was something he found himself dancing to with Vicchan in his bedroom at the odd hours in the morning. The figure in front of him, however, seemed to be referencing them as if it were something more… physical in nature.“No, I don’t think I have.”“Earth Angels is a term we use for Humans who are born with a holy soul. Almost like a fallen angel in nature! We never expected any to actually ever exist, but here you are.” His smile is warm, Yuuri can see the thin line on his darkened features curl up gently when he finishes speaking, and he understands the other meant to reference him again in hopes of some kind of consolation.Here I am indeed.





	1. Still Alive

                Rebirth.

                White hot and electric, a radiating and slow burn that ached within; the body’s way of reforming, and exploring the newer limits of its physical state. Rebirth was a fresh start after cleansing one’s self of old wounds, a way for the soul to find peace again in the world. It was a rare anomaly, heralded as an experience only the divine had the ability to witness. The human population was not so blessed as to be considered worthy of such a transformation, no added purpose to their lives to put themselves through the trials the Holy Council had decided on millenniums ago. Humans existed for the divines, not to become one.

                Yuuri Katsuki was twenty five years of age when he became the first human in written history to be reborn. The first mortal to be branded from birth as an Earth Angel.

                He didn’t remember how it happened, just that it hurt. It wasn’t anything he had been through in his life before, after all. It was a supernatural force, he thought, surging through his nervous system. No amount of twisted ankles or broken bones ever could amount to this; he was the phoenix rising from the ashes, but he no matter what he couldn’t figure out what fire sparked and spat him out like this. He ached. His screams were unholy, almost otherworldly in nature, but they didn’t draw any attention to him.

                Where was he?

                This vat of darkness surrounded him, an ever looming blanket of loneliness that haunted him. Mocked him. The burning tears in his eyes only muddied the image of vast nothingness in which he lay with ragged breaths and clenched fists.

                _It’ll be over soon, right?_

                A groan pressed past his lips and he shuddered, rolling from his right side to his stomach so he could bury himself in his crossed arms. It felt like he should be breaking a sweat; it felt like his body was ripping itself in half, but, God, this had to be a nightmare. He couldn’t physically be laying in nothingness with fire in his veins.

                It wasn’t possible.

                “Relax,” a voice whispered, calmly as if to persuade the young Japanese man to find it in himself to compose himself. The nervous shakes he had and taut muscles that pulled from the pain weren’t there to help ease him through this. His fear only threatened to bubble over, he had to get a hold on himself. He had to calm down.

                “I can’t,” he whimpered, fingers curling tightly into the flesh of his forearm. His mind was clouded, misguided by his own misconceptions of the situation and the looming unknown result of his breathless labors only proved to kick his anxiety into overdrive. He wasn’t weak, he hated to admit to himself that in any situation he could be, but this was too much. This was the one thing, no matter how hard he fought, he couldn’t beat.

                A figure stepped to his side, crouching down to run careful fingers through his ebony tresses while they hummed with attempted comfort against the darkness, “I know it’s hard. Far harder for you, Yuuri. You’re the first of your kind. But you have to relax, it won’t get better until you do.”

                “My kind?” A pressing question, one that had him lolling his head to the side to glance up at the form that was putting all their effort into working on comforting him. His clouded eyes were met with the silhouette of a taller man, lithe form crouched at his side with his right arm extended out. Features couldn’t be made out in the gloaming surrounding them. He did, however, radiate this massive presence of gentleness and sincerity, something the writhing man could appreciate in that moment.

                With a tilt of his head and, what Yuuri assumed was, a smile, the other figure moved the fingers that hand entwined themselves in his hair down to the nape of his neck. Gentle, calming, kind. “Yes! Your kind. You’re the first I’ve heard of, too, but I think the rebirth is the same for everyone, regardless of how they came into existence.”

                “Rebirth?”

                “That’s what this is, yeah. What your body is going through right now is known as a rebirth. Usually only the divines have to deal with it, but you were branded from birth! You’re one of us in spirit.”

                Whiskey tinted jewels peered up at the other with caution, body shifting some so he could roll onto his other side to ease the burden on his neck while he stared up at the stranger. _Dream stranger,_ he reminded himself, _this isn’t even real._ The man was going on about being reborn and divine beings, Yuuri’s mind instantly fliting to the image of an angel with so little to go off of.

                _I’m nothing special. Not like that. I’m no angel._

                “Can you… please give me more information? What am I the first of?”

                His strange companion moved into a sitting position when the skater had poised the lingering question, legs crossed tightly and right thumb and forefinger holding his own chin, “I guess it makes sense that you don’t know. You’re human born, after all.”

                “Not… an answer…”

                “Right, sorry. You’re what we call an Earth Angel. Have you heard of those before?”

                Thick brows furrowed in thought, mind attempting to think back to all his previous mortal years for any semblance of recognition towards the term. Earth Angel? He had heard the song, sure. It was an old tune, slow and romantic, but it was something he found himself dancing to with Vicchan in his bedroom at the odd hours in the morning. The figure in front of him, however, seemed to be referencing them as if it were something more… physical in nature.

                “No, I don’t think I have.”

                “Earth Angels is a term we use for Humans who are born with a holy soul. Almost like a fallen angel in nature! We never expected any to actually ever exist, but here you are.” His smile is warm, Yuuri can see the thin line on his darkened features curl up gently when he finishes speaking, and he understands the other meant to reference him again in hopes of some kind of consolation.

                _Here I am indeed._

                “What’s… happening, then? This… ah, rebirth? What is it?” A surge of lightning through his nerves struck him hard, sending the man into a fit of shivers before he managed to curl in on himself and attempt to ground himself again. His back ached. His whole body felt as if it was going to melt into a puddle of distress and regret, and nothing he could do in the moment was going to hold him together. Was he falling apart?

                The figure shuffled some, moving to stand and lock his hands together behind his back before leaning forward to tower over him. The man seemed intent on ushering Yuuri to finish the process, but the pained figure at his feet wasn’t even sure how to make that happen. How long had he been at this, now? Thirty minutes? Forty? Time seemed to be an endless fixture in this place, something neither here nor there when it came to keeping track of things. It wasn’t reliable, it wasn’t viable. Yuuri had no idea if he had already been here an eternity or if his personal hell had just begun.

                “For the divines, a rebirth happens to bring new life and a stronger sense of being to them. Humans typically go through something similar and call it puberty, but for you it’s something different. Since, as you know, you were born human to begin with, your rebirth is your holy energy unlocking itself. You’re no mere mortal, Yuuri!”

                “What caused this, then? Why me?”

                “I can’t answer the second question, not even I have rights in that department, but I figure it’d be fairly obvious as to what kicked your rebirth into overdrive so suddenly. Do you really not remember?”

                No, he didn’t. He didn’t even know what day it was or what he could have possibly been missing. Any recent memories felt shaky and unreliable, giving him a distinct distrust against his own memory and assuredly more questions than answers regarding the true weight of the situation at hand. The companion seemed concerned the pained man on the ground remembered nothing, but the snapping of his thumb and forefinger together only told Yuuri that he had, at least, figured something out.

                “It makes sense that you don’t! I don’t think I’d remember either, not immediately anyway. Let me formally introduce myself, then, since you can’t recall much as it is. My name is Phichit Chulanont, and I was appointed to be your guide through your rebirth. Think of me as a guardian angel of sorts, only I’m helping guide you into becoming one of your own?”

                “Guardian angel?”

                “Absolutely! I know you’re eager for answers, and I promise I’ll show you more, but we have to get you through this first, okay? I don’t want to move you until you’re ready.”

                An answer was left lingering in the momentary silence between them before Yuuri lets out another cry of pain, one that shook the hungry shadows around them with as much force as a summer Typhoon had over a small ocean town. The pain had subsided, but even through his wheezing pants and shaking tremors he knew he felt something different.

                It wasn’t just the warm humming in his chest, no.

                He distinctly felt two heavy, aching wings extend out from his back.

* * *

 

                “Where are we?”

                “It’s kind of a surprise, I guess? It’s going to answer a lot of your questions, anyway.” Phichit had appointed himself as the rightful guide in the tour of Yuuri’s new life. This was still _definitely_ a dream, the young man knew that, but it appealed to him in a sick way that one might watch a pileup and forget to call for help. He couldn’t look away from the disaster that was his life.

                “Yeah, I have a lot, all right,” he breathed, head turning just enough to glance back at the wings that weighed him down. They were white, almost blindingly slow, but had slight golden accents to the ends of each individual feather that glistened whenever the sunlight hit. Phichit’s own tan pair was partnered with a deep maroon, a nice combination that set well with the warmth he continued to radiate. Neither man bothered to try and conceal the appendages, Phichit claiming that it didn’t matter either way, Humans couldn’t see them.

                Not unless they believed.

                “This way, to that crowd over there?” His guide was determined, brows knit and lips pursed as he weaved through curved stones and weathered statues. Yuuri had seen them before, in pictures and in news stories, a place he had heard Viktor refer to as the Volkovskoe Cemetary. He remembered the Writer’s Walkways that had become prominent in the news, having taken some free time of his own while learning about the history of Saint Petersburg to look further into the history. It had always piqued his interest, but never enough to actually draw him out of the comfort of his home to visit. So why were they there now?

                A crowd had gathered around a fresh grave, all clad in back and in mourning under the overhanging trees. It was autumn, Yuuri noticed, no later than October. Having no real semblance of time only managed to confuse him some, the last memory he could recall having been in winter, way back in January. Had he lost almost an entire year, somehow?

                His guide stopped for a moment, shuffling some right outside the ring of bodies at the gravesite before looking to his protégé’, “Take my hand, okay? Trust me.”

                “Why?”

                “Humans can’t see our wings, but they can still see us. I can’t let that happen here, though. You don’t know how to remove your physical presence from the mortal realm yet, but I can still blanket you myself if you do as I ask.” Not a word struck him as a lie, and his features softened as he glanced over at the mourners and let out a low sigh. He wasn’t going to impose on them, not when they had already been through loss. The worst thing he could do was force himself into a funeral of a stranger just to learn about himself. He was better than that.

                With shaking hesitation, his hand reached out and entwined with the warm one Phichit had extended out. He felt reality shift some, the world blurring just slightly as if they had been sucked into a translucent bubble. It was harder to see, but he could still make out their figures through the soft light filtering through the leaves. The shorter guide smiled gently, looking over to Yuuri with such gentle compassion it almost made his heart ache. It was sympathetic, sorrowful.

                An apology.

                “Come on.”

                He guided them through the crowd, weaving in between bodies and being careful not to knock into anyone. As far as he was concerned, having any nonexistent entity bump into him while he went to a funeral was the fastest way possible to get him to leave. The group had earned their right to mourn as long as they needed without disturbance; he wasn’t looking to scare anyone away today.

                They had weaved their way through and up to the front, just lingering on the outside of the open grave where the casket was hovering over. A man stood alone in front of the casket, eyes glued down into the Bible between his hands as he spoke with thick, blanketing Russian. Not even being reborn into an angel helped Yuuri understand foreign languages. Situational clues gave Yuuri context that the man was a priest who was reading one final prayer, and the mourners around himself and Phichit all had their heads bowed in respect to the deceased that was housed before them.

                It all felt wrong. Being here and observing, the itchiness on his back that burned from the new wings that had sprouted. It was so impolite to stand here and ogle the snow white casket with golden accents that only proved to haunt him. The feeling in his gut was a guilt that only felt like something akin to what one might feel when trespassing. It was a violation of their sadness.

                With a slight waver in his voice, the priest concluded his final prayer, the slight inflection in his voice seeming to offer an opportunity of sorts to the mourners. Phichit takes the time, at this point, to move them to the side of the father, hoping to avoid getting in the way of the bodies as they stepped forward one by one to toss glimmering objects into the grave.

                Yuuri’s chest ached.

                “What are they doing?” He questioned, right hand curling over the fabric covering his chest. Phichit shuffled some and glanced at the Japanese man out of the corner of his eye before directing his attention back to the people, “They’re throwing in coins. It’s tradition here, a way for the mourners to help pay for the transit of the soul to the other side. It’s their way of making sure the soul doesn’t get stuck here.”

                His chest tightened more, a loud pounding in his ears managing to drown out any sounds that echoed around them. It was a deafening white noise, and all he could figure to do was rub at his ears with his free hand and stretch his mouth repeatedly in an attempt to pop them. Perhaps it was their bubble that was doing it? The pressure of being in between planes was weighing down on him suddenly?

                “Phichit, what’s going on?”

                The man at his side glanced up at him and smiled as he reached out a hand to card through Yuuri’s hair again. More comfort, few answers. Phichit seemingly had a theme of vague answers and hopeful tones, something that could be admired by the taller man but loathsome in the moment. He seemed hesitant to answer, but one more glance back to the crowd does enough to convince him alone, “Your rebirth is almost done. You’re disconnected from yourself right now, but what you’re feeling is the final stage. You’re becoming whole again.”

                “Whole again?” His voice seemed foreign to him when he spoke, and he moved his hand that covered his heart over his mouth and struggled not to comment further as he looked back and caught sight of the last person to step forward and toss in their offering.

                Directly across from him, tall and overwhelming with sharp angles that accompanied a smooth frame, stood the last mortal to offer payment for the passage of the deceased. The tears tore right through him, delicate streams of sorrow that ran across the curves of the other’s cheek bones and met at the point of his chin after having left the sanctuary provided by round cuts of aquamarine. Familiar eyes that held so much warmth were clouded in despair and loss.

                They shook with heartbreak.

                “Viktor,” he breathed, stepping forward just so, watching as the taller man hesitantly flipped the coin between his fingers down into the grave below to meet with everyone else. It was his acceptance, his goodbye, and upon contact with the cold soil at the bottom Yuuri was brought to his knees gasping frantically. He felt it, the movement. The sudden rush of memories knocking him backwards and all the answers he sought out were careful to overwhelm him at once. Just one more coin was all it took. The mourners had paid the passage.

                It was him in that casket.

                It was his soul returning that had him breathless and sobbing.

* * *

 

                Phichit was quick to remove them from the scene, taking Yuuri somewhere quiet so he could hopefully compose himself and speak on equal ground with his guide now that he knew what was going on. He remembered everything, the past nine months of his life right up until the afternoon of October 24th. That’s where his memories clouded and faded out, but every rerun of his memories had him gasping in shock by the end and left him with no conclusive answers other than one thing alone: he was dead.

                His guardian’s comfort came in gentle strokes across his back and quiet shooshes under his breath, patient and understanding of Yuuri’s shock with no clear intention of wanting to force him into acceptance. It wasn’t an easy thing to come to terms with, one’s own death. He had been to plenty of funerals before, he had offered condolences to others and saw to the passage of his family members whenever they moved on from the mortal plane.

                But this? This was different. It was new. He never moved on, he didn’t have the chance. The Earth Angel analogy only implied that when he died he was reborn as one of the divines Phichit mentioned, but he never _wanted_ this. He never _asked_ to be responsible of a holy duty.

                He didn’t have it in him to be a guardian angel for himself, let alone anyone else.

                “Why?” He sobbed, broken and burdened, a heavy weight pressing on his conscious as he reached out to the angel that had been assigned to him without question. He only sought answers, he wanted to know why he was chosen for this. If he died, why couldn’t his soul rest easy? Why was he forcibly having to watch his own funeral, witnessing people he hardly knew mourn him like he mattered?

                Why did he have to see Viktor, heartbroken and alone, tossing the last coin that made him whole again into the pit where his body would rest?

                “The Council chose you, Yuuri. You are so much more than what you think, your potential is so great, you have so much left to do.”

                “Like what?” He barked, shaking hands moving to wipe thick, pooling tears away from his eyes. He felt Phichit shrink some when Yuuri snapped back, but he was understanding of the shock the other man was going through. He knew it couldn’t have been easy to finally be reborn when you had been a human for twenty five years.

                He was just a mortal, he didn’t know what he was doing.

                “You’re needed here, on Earth. Like I said, I’m here to guide you until you’re comfortable with your new role. You’re a guardian angel, after all. You have an assignment, here. You have someone who you have to watch over. Yuuri, you were born to be their guardian. I like to think that’s why you were put on Earth to begin with.”

                His breathing had settled, but the tears still spilled down his cheeks and landed down on the hands that had curled into his lap. What, so the only reason he was even born to begin with was so that he could die and look after someone? His entire life thus far had been some kind of divine joke that played out as smoothly as possible? He didn’t even remember how he _died_ , he just knew that it happened. But, no matter how angry or hurt he was, none of this was Phichit’s fault. He was doing everything he could to ease Yuuri into this new life, and that much alone could be appreciated.

                _This isn’t a dream. I feel it. It’s too real. This is real._

_I’m dead._

                “You say… That I have an assignation, right? Who, then? I-I deserve to know that much.” It was a whispered plea, but not one that he wanted the other man to turn him down for. If he had to accept his fate as an Earth bound angel, he should know exactly why he was being forced to stay here to begin with. Who was grounding him to this planet? Who was forcing him to continue to walk on the mortal plane guised as a man who had been through nothing worthwhile?

                “You don’t know already,” Phichit questioned, head lolling to rest on his right shoulder as he eyed the man at his side, “It’s Viktor. Viktor Nikiforov. You didn’t fall in love with him out of sheer luck, Yuuri. That was fate.”

                “I’m _Viktor’s_ guardian?”

                “Well, technically you’re his soulmate. You transcended your role as guardian when you two fell in love, but it’s still your job to protect him. You’re essential in his life, and he needs you like this more than you know.”

                “So you’re telling me that I… I have t-to silently watch over the man I fell in love with… And pretend to be okay with it?”

                “Who said it had to be silent?”

* * *

 

                “I’m going home.”

                “Viktor, please….”

                Cold, hardened turquoise eyes burrowed down on the shorter blonde that had stood by his side. It was a quiet plea, a request for him to stay just a little longer, but it wasn’t something the older man could give. His welcome had already been overstayed, his own personal anxieties and fits of misery making sure he couldn’t find peace with his friends and loved ones. It wasn’t right, gathering together like this. It made no sense to carry on like they weren’t missing someone from their crew.

                No gathering was worth going to without Yuuri at his side.

                But it had been an hour and forty five minutes since he said one final goodbye to his lover, throwing one last handful of dirt into the grave and seeing him off knowing that that was it. That was the end of the life he had built with the Japanese skating prodigy. He had lost his everything. The only thing he wanted to do anymore was get back home and toe off his shoes, grab a bottle of his strongest vodka, and forget today had ever happened.

                That was irresponsible, though. He knew that. Yuri Plisetsky, with those famed eyes of a soldier that hollowed with the loss of one of his friends, knew that even better than he did as he had looked him over from across the dining hall. It was supposed to be a celebration of Yuuri’s life, a way to remember all the good things that he had accomplished and lived through while he was alive. Viktor had kept to himself by a table covered in useless finger foods, glass of water in his hand noticeably trembling even with their physical distance.

                He wasn’t going to let Viktor wallow alone. At the least, they could wallow in sadness together. Granted, Viktor had lost the love of his life, but Katsuki was one hell of a force that swept into his life and knocked him clear on his ass in the middle of the rink. As much has Yuri was loath to admit that the man had any sort of influence on him when he was alive, the determination that showed in his features every time he stepped on the ice was fueled by a burning need to show a pig who the better man was.

                Without fail Katsuki had always pulled off that title.

                “I just want to go home, Yuri.”

                His voice was quiet, small. It was a whole new side of Viktor that the younger man had no intention of ever getting used to. Viktor existed to be the light in everyone’s life, he was always the center of attention and he was the one who got out in front of millions of people and inspired them every day to do something wonderful. He had so much influence in him, so vibrant and demanding that it was hard to look away, but right now the blonde couldn’t stomach to look at his older mentor when his face was uncharacteristically dimmed and empty.

                “Then we go home.”

                “When I said go home, that implied alone.”

                “Nice try. I don’t think you need to be alone right now anyways. Look, I’ll even take Makkachin out for a walk for you. She’s so old you know I’ll wind up carrying her halfway anyways, but it needs to get done and I think-“

                “No.”

                Yuri turned to face him, eyes narrowed with condescension and a soft ‘tch’ could be heard pressing past his thin lips. “It’s just for one night. I don’t want you to go home alone after today, okay? The last thing you need is to be cooped up in an apartment you shared with Katsuki alone with your thoughts. I think some company might make things easier on you.”

                Viktor’s sigh was prominent, but nothing that indicated any sort of aggression or irritation with the sixteen year old’s persistent badgering. It sounded more like resignation, understanding of the young soldier’s point and seeing, perceptively, that he was right all along. Maybe it _wasn’t_ the best idea for him to go home alone today. Besides, Yuri was offering, so it wasn’t exactly an imposition on him. He also offered to walk Makkachin, which in and of itself was motivation alone seeing as all Viktor wanted to do was lie in bed with the lights off.

                The quiet was more comfort than anything he could physically get his hands on.

                “Yeah, okay. You’re right, you’re right. One night, though. Just so I can… Get my bearings and such.”

                “Of course, dude. Whatever you need.”

                It’s genuine, the warmth in the little tiger’s voice was a small comfort to him, like a drop of honey in his morning tea that helped him get through the day. The simple things that drove him to be better and do better, those small moments that only made him think of Yuuri and the way his smile melted all his worries and insecurities. His heart ached, but that was normal.

                _This is the right way to mourn._

                “All right, Yuratchka. Let’s split.”

                A small smiled was offered as a promise; a promise to try and be better than he had been, be stronger than he knew he was, and to inspire more people to move with the same passion and fluidity that Yuuri had. The world was owed that much, and no one but himself was poised to give them what they needed. He lost a lover, but the skating community lost a streak of color on their blank canvas and nothing could bring that back.

                But he could try to make up for it.


	2. Incendiary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, not that I know of. Usually we have some kind of idea regarding what we’re doing with the human we guard, but you two are the first pairing of this kind. It’s different…. Viktor is different.” That caught Yuuri’s attention, drawing him to roll onto his side and prop his head up in the palm of his hand as he studied the man’s expression: unsure, remorseful, worried. Phichit was just as lost about Yuuri’s purpose as he was, and that previous sense of calm had managed to wipe itself away.
> 
> “How is he different?” Another question, something he realized he had plenty of the more they talked, and the Angel in front of him only offered a shrug and a small smile, “I’m not really sure. There’s something about him, Yuuri, that’s very powerful. It’s something we’ve been keeping our eyes on as it stood, before you came along that is. I don’t really know what threatens him the most, but… I think it might be safe to assume that your best bet of protecting him is to make sure you save him from himself.”

                Death had a funny way of draining the color from the world, muted tones that expressed the sorrow that could only be brought about by loss and the white noise of the city almost seemed silent. Death was a new home, unoccupied and unlived, empty and welcoming for the new tenants it brought. It was an inescapable place to bunker down and linger, questioning oneself if staying in the creaking home of unresolved tensions was for the best.

                It was the halfway house of the afterlife. A bridge between morality and ascension, the place souls went to fight their own battles, try to find an ends to a mean that they couldn’t achieve in life.  They were the soldiers in this realm, always at the ready, prepared for battle should it be required. They had nothing else to do, after all. They answered to the Angels, and the Angels were under direct orders from The Council. Should you wish to move on to a better place, it was in your best judgement to do as you were told.

                Phichit was quiet and even-tempered, hands swaying softly with the breeze as he spoke and explained the nuances of Yuuri’s newfound existence. He explained the order in which they fell; first came The Council, then the Angels which took on the role of the Divine Protectors, and then the Waywards whom were lost souls looking for their out. Humans fell into the rankings at the last spot, but it was a bit of a foggy line seeing as they were mortals and the hierarchy above them existed solely to protect them from themselves. Humans were dangerous, that way, so keen on self-destruction.

                “A distinctly human trait,” his guide had offered, head angled back and resting softly against the smooth stone of a neighboring tombstone, “Something that we knew would crop up at some point. A higher power than us might have created them, but the brought The Council and the Angels into play as guardians of their little… experiment, I guess. I don’t think they really expected the relationship between us and the mortals to go as well as it did. We lasted far longer than anyone had originally thought we would.”

                He seemed thoughtful, dark eyes trained on the falling leaves cascading down on him from an imposing tree that granted them shade in the autumn sun. Yuuri was transfixed on the other angel, curiosity striking his soft features as he glanced over the curled form seated across from him. How old was Phichit? Who was he supposed to be the Guardian of? When the mortals they were supposed to protect pass on, what happened to them? Were they punished if they failed to protect their charges from the cold grip of death before it was time?

                His elder stirred, head lolling back towards him now as he blinked and offered the fledgling a smile, “Your thoughts are loud, Yuuri. I can hear them prattling on at a million miles a minute. You can ask me anything, you know. I’m here for you.” A genuine honesty tinged his words, the soft curl of his lips a kind offer of support for the confused man who sat on his own grave. This was his anchor, the ethereal tether that held him to this plane. Phichit had the freedom of being divine from his beginnings; he wasn’t born, was never mortal, and never had to die to become a blessed defender for The Council.

                Yuuri was the only one of his kind.

                He shifted uncomfortably, hands shaky and clasped together in his lap as he diverted his attention away from the Thai man. It was comfort, sure, but this was a lot to take in. He had responsibilities now, a purpose higher than he even had known in life. It was his sole duty to be there for the one person in the world that mattered the most.

                Yuuri existed to protect Viktor.

                “Why was I chosen to protect him?” He asked, the reprieve he had before suddenly faltering as he spoke. It was an underlying concern of his, something that he felt bubble within him in the late nights as they curled together under light blankets and softer sheets. It was a fear of not being enough for the man who laid beside him, features illuminated by the filtered moonlight through their blinds. Viktor made it his mission while they were together to prove Yuuri wrong, to show him that he _was_ enough, but the anxiety that he fought back on his own was a nuisance in such a way that it was hard to ignore.

                The difference between then and now, however, is that Viktor’s safety was in his hands.           

                “You weren’t chosen, per se. It was your soul, after all. You two are linked by it. He may have been born before you, but it was your soul that split to create your human form.” Phichit stopped to tap his index finger against his chin, thoughtful for a moment as he shifted to sit upright, “Humans call the anomaly ‘soulmates’, which I guess is a fair name! But for you to be able to do your job, your souls have to be linked. All angels are linked to their charges in one way or another, but Earth Angels are different this way. It’s how you find each other when you’re still mortal.”

                “So I was… I was always destined to meet him? To be with him?”

                “Not necessarily romantically, no, but you were always going to be an important part of his life. There’s a magnetic connection between you two, almost, that pulls you together. No matter where you were in the world, you would find each other. It took you some time, but wasn’t it worth it in the end? Weren’t you happier when he settled into your life like he belonged there from the start?”

                He was, of course. Yuuri couldn’t exactly argue that Viktor made him the happiest he had ever been, and it wasn’t like he was aching to do so anyway. Their love was something special, otherworldly and powerful, but that made them stronger. It made them better people, and loving Viktor was the best decision his heart had made. With a long, strained sigh he laid back, eyes trained on the clouds that peeked through the branches and leaves, following their slow travels across the sky as time ticked on.

                Time stopped for him, but it was still ever present by the things that surrounded him; the clouds moving in the sky, the chimes of the clocks on the walls when he entered those old antique shops that he loved so much, the drag of the sun in the evening when the moon wanted to make an appearance. It marched on without him, seemingly flaunting its purpose of making morality meaningless. Life stopped regardless, and it was always because time never stopped moving.

                “Is there something in particular I need to protect him from, then?” It was a prodding question, something he hoped would be met with assurance and clarity rather than vague metaphors and wistful ‘good luck’s. His head rolled to the side, facing Phichit again, and he watched as his face twisted a bit uncomfortably and rubbed at the nape of his neck.

                “Well, not that I know of. Usually we have some kind of idea regarding what we’re doing with the human we guard, but you two are the first pairing of this kind. It’s different…. Viktor is different.” That caught Yuuri’s attention, drawing him to roll onto his side and prop his head up in the palm of his hand as he studied the man’s expression: unsure, remorseful, worried. Phichit was just as lost about Yuuri’s purpose as he was, and that previous sense of calm had managed to wipe itself away.

                “How is he different?” Another question, something he realized he had plenty of the more they talked, and the Angel in front of him only offered a shrug and a small smile, “I’m not really sure. There’s something about him, Yuuri, that’s very powerful. It’s something we’ve been keeping our eyes on as it stood, before you came along that is. I don’t really know what threatens him the most, but… I think it might be safe to assume that your best bet of protecting him is to make sure you save him from himself.”

* * *

 

                Phichit had offered that they go grab some coffee, break Yuuri away from his grave and help clear his mind a little bit. They still had more to talk about, and Yuuri was spending his first night back home with Phichit there to observe and give him tips for the future. He had none of the formal teachings the other Angels had, and Phichit was sent personally to help groom him for his role as one. It was a lot to take in.

                Yuuri still _looked_ like himself, but there was an ever present magic that stirred beneath his skin that muddied the memories of the people in Saint Petersburg. He was _familiar_ but in a distant way, the kind of familiar that had you scratching your head and pondering for a few minutes before you shrugged and gave up. There wasn’t a name for the face, there wasn’t anything to notice. He was a citizen that existed like the shadows under streetlights. He was there, but not in a way people cared to look at.

                “Phichit!”

                The barista raised two steaming to-go cups into the air, the man she beckoned stepping forward to take the drinks off her hands with a large smile. He had this never-ending air of charisma that surrounded him, a different sort than what Viktor had, but it made him personable and people warmed up to him quickly. It was a homey comfort, if Yuuri had to describe it as anything. Phichit found his side again, one arm extending out his steaming cup and the other curled carefully across his chest. The Japanese man smiled, offered a small thank you and took his drink into his hands to cradle it close.

                _Warm,_ he mused. _Just like I remember, when Viktor and I came here._

                The Smalldouble was a quaint little café, light colors and a modern feel welcomed the patrons when they entered. It was a regular spot for the two to visit, making themselves comfortable in the cushioned armchairs along the wall as they chatted about their days and made plans regarding routines. It was a place that made them feel at home, and the employees were more than familiar with their faces. Viktor and Yuuri were as much of a staple to their business as their pastries and coffees were.

                It hurt to stand there with just a few lingering souls around, watching as the baristas bustled behind the wooden bar and never chanced a glance his way. They didn’t recognize him, and while Phichit told him they never would that it was ‘for the best’, it still hurt. It made the reality of the situation just that more real.

                This was real. He had died.

                He had ascended.

                No one knew who he was.

                He figured his face must have twisted into something like hurt, because after a moment Phchit put an arm around his shoulders and helped guide him out of the café. “I got to-go for a reason. We don’t have to stick around, Yuuri.” A smile, the taller man could hear it behind his words, but he refused to look at anything but the cooling coffee in his hands. It was a viable distraction, a way to remember the man he used to be when he was alive, but it also functioned as a sordid reminder of the reality he had to face. “Are you okay?”

                “Yeah, I’m fine I just… I need time, I think? To adjust to the way the world sees me. It hurts a bit, I was so used to being recognized. I think I… I think I took it for granted when I was alive, you know? It made me anxious, and God, I hated it, but now it’s like…. I don’t know, a memory I wish I could relive.” He paused, taking a long drink from his cup and humming at the familiar flavors on his tongue. It tasted like home, it felt like comfort, and it warmed him the way it always had when Viktor wasn’t around. “I don’t want Viktor to look through me like they did. I don’t want to be something familiar but unrecognizable.”

                Pinpricks in his eyes had him shaking his head gently, one hand removing itself from his coffee to wipe away any threatening tears before they fell and gave him away. Phichit just listened, nodding every so often as Yuuri expressed his concerns, being a quiet ear for the other man as he spoke and finally allowed himself to vent. This was a lot at once. It was a lot to expect of a man who never knew what he existed for to begin with. In life he wanted to spend his time on the ice, doing everything he could to be the best he could for Viktor. It was all for him, every determined look on his face, every driven practice he pushed through, every medal he won, every obstacle he overcame, it was all for Viktor.

                He had a special hold on Yuuri’s heart, and there wasn’t much he could offer in return other than showing him that his efforts were all for naught. He didn’t want Viktor to go through life, especially not now, fearing that he had wasted so much time on a man who couldn’t live up to his potential; a man who never had a chance to reach the top.

                “Don’t worry about Viktor,” Phichit finally said, words muffled into his cup as he stared thoughtfully at the pedestrians weaving around them, “Your souls are connected. Once he believes you, once he truly knows you’re _there_ , he’ll see you for who you are. It won’t be easy, Yuuri. I can’t promise this will be an easy fix, but I know it will happen. He will look at you like you hung the moon if you just give him time.”

                _Believes you._ The words echoed in his mind, and the quiet hum of inquisition echoed in the chilling air. “How do I get him to do that? Believe me?” A shrug could be seen out of the corner of his eye, and he made a pointed effort not to shrink in on himself as the angel to his left thought to himself, “I’m not really sure. Again, you two are a rare case. Waywards are kind of like ghosts, you see? Maybe you could talk to some of them if you’re really stuck. I think if you really think about your possibilities and options, you’ll figure something out.”

                It took only a moment for the bulb in his mind to flip on, and he turned to the tanned winged divine with a beaming smile on his face and a hand on the other’s shoulder, “I think I know what to do.”

                “Oh, Yuuri! I’m so excited.”

* * *

 

                The building loomed over them, tall and foreboding in its structure as they angled their necks to look upwards at the complex, “You lived here?” Phichit whispered, eyes wide and impressed at the marvel they stood before. It wasn’t a quaint place by any means, Yuuri was well aware of that. They were both professional figure skaters, money wasn’t the tightest thing in the world. While Yuuri was a bit more modest in his lifestyle, he adapted to Viktor’s more extravagant tastes when he had packed up from Hasetsu and made his home here after the Grand Prix.

                He sighed, leveling his head again to look back at the door, “Yeah.” It was a quiet response, only barely above a whisper but loud enough that, at least, Phichit could hear him. He had trained his eyes onto the names on the complex call pad. All the tenants were listed, hand written names and personal for each body in the building. It was a way of making it home, a new method of reaching out to say ‘ _This is where_ I _live.’_               

                The unmistakable scrawl of Viktor’s handwriting was where his sight lingered.

                _Nikiforov & Katsuki._

                This was their home. It was molded out of love and shaped into a place they could escape at night, when the world was too much or they just needed a quiet place to retreat to. It was the place Yuuri felt the most comfortable, tangled in the mass of limbs that Viktor sported and watching movies until their eyes burned from exhaustion. This was the place they cooked their meals together, Viktor hovering close behind Yuuri, hands on his hips and lips dancing on the curve of his neck.

                It was the place where they went to bed each night, tangled together and burning with love, knowing each morning they’d wake to see the face of each other. The apartment had been the first location where they sat seriously and discussed their engagement, where Yuuri had urged Viktor to buy magazines for the soon to wed. They’d thumb through their piles of ideas, curled together on the couch and ambient music whispering in the background as they chatted about all the possibilities; the possibilities not just for their wedding, but their future together.

                Only now, Yuuri stood in front of the building, brows knit together with determination, and Phichit had to step in front of him to get him to look away from the door for a moment, “Everything okay, Yuuri? That door isn’t going to open the harder you stare at it, you know.” He did. That was the first painful truth he had to admit to. He couldn’t just freely enter the building anymore, he had to work his way in like the door to door salesmen did. He had seen once how they did it, the memory flooding back to him in crashing waves before he stepped around Phichit and hovered a finger over the buttons.

                “I’m fine,” he answered, looking over his shoulder to the other man, “I know what to do now.” He sounded more sure than he was, but this was the only option he could think of. His finger dragged itself across each buzzer, all of them calling out to the tenants in hopes that _someone_ would buzz him in. There were twenty people here, he could expect at least one of them to mindlessly let a stranger in.

                Much to his surprise, it worked, the door buzzing loudly to officially grant them entry. Yuuri stumbled back a bit, surprised, and wrapped his fingers around the handle of the glass door before tugging it open and stepping off to the side, “See? After you.”

                “Do I want to know how you knew to do that?”

                “It’s not _bad._ I just have faith in these people even when I shouldn’t I guess.”

                They took the stairs up, reveling in the peace it gave them without the real threat of running into anyone else. _No one takes the stairs,_ Yuuri had said, offering it as a better option than the elevator to get up to the fifth, and top, floor. No one was going to recognize them if they ran into a resident, the last thing they needed was security formally removing them from the building and, very likely, arresting them for trespassing. They might have been divine beings, but they didn’t exactly have money for bail. Not at the moment, anyways.

                Phichit took the initiative when they reached the top to open the door that led them to the hallway of the top floor, ogling a bit at the fine paintings on the wall and attention to detail the landlords apparently had. “This is such a nice place, Yuuri! I can see why you two moved here.”

                “Yeah,” he replied, slipping into the hallway behind the other and shutting the stairwell door, “It was Viktor’s idea, but I didn’t exactly mind the luxury either. It was well kept… Is well kept, rather. I felt safe here, and I think ultimately that was what Viktor wanted the most.” Almost instinctually his lips twitched up into a smile, the memory of them signing the lease blanketing him with warm affection.

                _Is this what you want, Yuuri?_

                Viktor had always been concerned with Yuuri’s wants and desires, never failing to put himself on the backburner for the sake of his lover’s comfort. All the Japanese man could do was offer a smile and a kiss to his forehead. Of course this is what he wanted. Viktor wanted it, and as long as Yuuri was with him then, well, he couldn’t really argue about where they wound up.

                They could be homeless and he wouldn’t mind, as long as Viktor staid by his side.

                _Yeah. Of course it is. I love it._

That smile. The one that melted hearts and shattered hate. It was a smile that comforted him in his darker moments, that pulled him out of the anxious hole he constantly put himself in without fail. That smile, heart shaped and gentle, was his favorite thing on Earth. It was his favorite thing about Viktor, the man who seemingly had it all.

                The man who had his heart.

                _I love you._

                “Which apartment was it, then?” The quiet voice of his guide pulled him back, eyes flickering over each of the four doors down the stretch of the hallway before he could finally comprehend the question being asked him. _Where did you live, Yuuri?_

                “Five-D,” he said, hands snaking into his pockets while Phichit made his way further down the hall to the door he had been all too familiar with. Their wreath was still hanging up, a gentle mesh of blues and greens that was so distinctly them and subtly everything they wanted to be. A union, a work of art that molded together. The image of love that couldn’t be separated; you couldn’t have one without the other.

                “I’m guessing you don’t have a key anymore,” the lighter voice spoke, “So I’ll get us in the old fashioned way. I’ll apologize in advance, it’s kind of weird, but you’ll get to it eventually.” _Eventually?_ Such an uncertainty concerned him, but not enough that he could protest. Instead, when Phichit had turned and extended out an arm, Yuuri obligingly stepped forth and allowed the senior angel to do his work.

                It did feel weird. It felt like fire on his nerves again, like when he had gone through his rebirth. It was still a fresh wound, raw on his body and an immediate forethought on his mind. Phichit seemed unfazed, but to Yuuri it was almost like he was losing himself; like his soul was being ripped from his body and transported into another plane of existence.

                Which, unfortunately, wasn’t entirely _incorrect._ He managed to keep his body through it all, but the Thai angel had pulled them out of the mortal realm. Boundaries weren’t a concern for them, which meant walls and doors weren’t about to stop them from getting inside. Phichit took the initiative to guide them in past the walls Yuuri had familiarized himself with just months before, settling them down in that living room that lacked any life these days.

                “You good?”

                “I’m fine, yeah. You’re right, it was weird.”

                The other only smiled, wings expanding outwards as he got a good stretch in before bringing them back to the mortal plane. It wasn’t wise to disturb anything mortals had in their safe spaces, it raised unnecessary suspicions and always had them wondering the wrong things.

                Not that Phichit’s worries were going to stop Yuuri’s plan, however.

                “So, explain to me again what your plan is? How you expect to get Viktor to believe you?”

                “I was a creature of habit when we lived together. I knew it irritated him to no end, but he never fought me on the things I did. I had a specific place I’d put the remote, and I always made the bed right before we slept. They were things that were just… very me in nature, and as much as it got on his nerves I know he’d get the point.”

                “Because no one but you would do these things?”

                “Right. And no one else knew about them either.”

                Phichit nodded thoughtfully, taking a seat on the center island in the kitchen as Yuuri moved through the living room with determination. He made a concerted effort to put the TV on a culinary channel, something Viktor indulged in with him on their free days, before turning the TV off and placing the remote on the right arm of the chair.

                _Right beside my spot._

                A loud shuffling from their bedroom had him looking up, eyes wide and flickering between their door and the angel on the island. Phichit waved a hand, motioned him out of the way, and smiled, “Don’t worry, he can’t see you. I made sure of that. We’re in his home… Your home. There was always a chance he’d be here.”

                “I don’t know if I’m prepared to see him like this…”

                “Like what?”

                “Heartbroken. Mourning.”

                It wasn’t something easy he could face, knowing Viktor’s life had lost meaning when he had passed away. He saw the hollowed, empty look in his eyes just the day before when they were graveside. He saw the way the love of his life held himself together for the sake of his image, but the war that waged in his heart was all too visible.

                Yuuri saw the look of pity young Yuri Plisetsky took on Viktor, and that alone was enough to know just how bad this was.

                With a grunt the Russian mortal emerged, hair mused and sweats crooked on his hips. _He looks exhausted,_ Yuuri thought, hands finding purchase in his pockets so he could resist the urge to reach out. _He looks so lost without me._

                Viktor rubbed at bloodshot eyes, neither divine quite sure if it was from crying or alcohol. Yuuri only gave a pained look to Phichit, and the other seemed to get the message that, in reality, his look was probably the result of both. “What the hell,” he breathed, staring mindlessly at the TV. Yuuri could sense his thoughts, he could _feel_ the confusion and hurt.

                “Thought I left that on,” he murmured. Viktor was so unsure of himself, stepping around the couch and planting himself in the middle cushion. He looked to the coffee table for the remote, where he had placed it, but upon discovering that it had gone missing, managed to glance off to the side and catch sight of it. He tensed, Yuuri saw it, when he reached out for the small object. It was almost nothing, something so meaningless to them on normal days so suddenly held a deeper meaning; it was the anchor Yuuri clung to in hopes it would be enough.

                “I miss you,” Viktor breathed, free hand reaching up to wipe away at his face. He was crying, though soft and muffled by the sounds of traffic outside. He never cried much, but it wasn’t ever loud. It was always soft, gentle, like he cried in fear that someone would hear him. That someone would mock him for the emotions that took over. Viktor seemed to constantly live in the fear that people were casting judgmental glances his direction, and in return, lived his life accordingly in a way to keep out of the negative light of the masses. Yuuri wasn’t so sure it ever worked. “I’m so sorry, _luchik._ I’m so, so sorry.”

                Sobbing was something new for them when it came to the Russian legend, unfamiliar territory neither really bothered to tread before now. Viktor did his best to keep himself composed when his emotions ran rampant, and Yuuri respected him enough not to push him to open up until he was ready. But, in the apartment they had shared in the heart of the city, alone with only the echoes of his wails to keep him company, Viktor broke down. He shook with each sob, body trembling and overwhelmed. It was like he was finally letting himself feel, but the emotions were raw and burning; they dragged him deeper into an inescapable pit of loneliness and desperation that he knew he didn’t have the energy to crawl out of.

                It wasn’t an easy sight to look at, not by any means. Mourning was hard enough to deal with, especially alone. Yuuri remembered when he lost Vicchan, how he had no one there to help him through it. That was different than this, he knew that. Losing a pet wasn’t quite the same as losing a loved one, especially when they were your fiancé. Viktor was fighting a losing battle with his loneliness, and it was only coupled by the ache his mourning brought to him.

                Yuuri hated that for him. He hated that he was in pain, he hated that he couldn’t do more than watch him as he broke down on the couch in the dim light of the living room. Viktor had kept the lights off, holed himself away in their bedroom and forced himself to feel like the world didn’t exist. There wasn’t a life worth living as long as Yuuri was gone. His bed was empty, his body was cold, and his nerves ached for the soft touches his lover greeted him with when he refused to wake up in the mornings. Everything that made him feel _alive_ also brought on heartache. That much Yuuri could see.

                Without hesitation he stepped forward, moving so he was behind the couch and peering over the sobbing man that sat before him. His shoulder blades pinched with each tremor that raked through his body, muscles pinching and flexing as he fought to compose himself in the darkness. It made the space in Yuuri’s chest where his heart should go ache, an empty echo of the man he was now compared to the living, breathing lover that suffered in silence.

                All he could do was lean down and wrap his arms around Viktors waist, pressing his warm lips to the back of the other man’s pale neck. He felt his shiver, body tightening at the contact. He was fighting this; fighting the sensation of warmth around him, fighting the fact that it was Yuuri comforting him, not just some strange hallucination. This was real. Yuuri was there, whether Viktor could see it or not.

                “Don’t apologize, darling. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to update this fic first before swinging back over to BFS! This, as I said before, is an AU I always loved, and the response to chapter one was very good! I really appreciate the words of encouragement. 
> 
> Fun Fact: Locations and names of shops/cafes are real! I do my best to research locations that are actual very real to St. Petersburg and use them in my story. I feel it gives in an extra layer of validity? If that makes sense.
> 
> As always: Comments, Kudos, Bookmarks, and sharing really help fuel me and keep me going! This fic is unbeta'd, so again, if you see grammar/spelling mistakes point them out! I always appreciate it!
> 
> ALSO: Luchik (Лучик) means subeam, or little ray of light.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr @ [Megalohdon](http://megalohdon.tumblr.com)


	3. Requiem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He pressed his face in the crook of a pale neck, inhaling his cool, crisp scent with a slight waver to his breathing. Holding him again was nice, his body ached to console him in times like this. Phichit hadn’t quite gotten to go over the nuances of guardianship, but he wasn’t entirely sure if the ache was natural to his new form, or an overlapping desire he had from when he was alive himself. There was a lot he didn’t know, and comforting Viktor was always something that eluded him.  
> “Sukidayo.” It was quiet, intimate, almost a whispered confession to the ice rather than Viktor himself, but even falling on deaf ears it was an admission he rarely ever brought up. He loved Viktor in the most raw, primal way he could. There was an innate need to be with him, something that had him throwing caution to the wind and packing up to move to Russia with a man he had fallen for over the expanse of eight months. If it hadn’t been for Phichit’s talk about their shared soul, he would have just assumed he was desperate or a fool.  
> Probably both.

                Three thousand, six hundred and fifty minutes.

                One hundred and fifty two days.

                Five months.

                An eternity.

                It had been a total of five months since Yuuri had died and had been reborn, and he still struggled to get a grasp on the new reality that he was faced with every day. Three thousand, six hundred and fifty pointless measurements of time that didn’t even matter to him; a wasted way of keeping track of just how long he’s been back. Another way to remember to keep his head when things were overwhelming.

                It had become habit of the two angels to follow Viktor in the early hours of the morning to the rink, uninhabited yet and lonely, the sort of cold emptiness that could only sate an aching soul when it cried for help. This was where he went to clear his mind, to distract himself from the overwhelming presence of his lover at home. It wasn’t perfect, no. Yuuri still lingered in the corners of the rink, his mark on the world impossible to ignore when Viktor had to eye his locker every morning that sat unused and useless next to his.

                He told Yakov not to clear it out.

                He’d do it when he was ready. No one argued with him.

                There wasn’t much to his groggy movements on the ice other than tired laps around the rink and pitiful excuses for figure eights and spread eagles. It was all he had the energy for, the only maneuvers he could physically accomplish without hurting himself; he didn’t _want_ to hurt, he wanted to stop. Pushing himself beyond his limits was a fruitless endeavor on its own, and getting hurt would just make things worse. He’d be stuck at home in bed, alone with the echo of lost love creeping around him like a nightmare in the shadows.

                No, the rink was all he had. This was his escape, now. He may have _lost_ Yuuri, but he wasn’t about to lose because of him. He was better than that, Yuuri would tell him that, thin fingers tangled in his silver locks and his hickory eyes would bore into his forehead until Viktor was forced to make eye contact. He could see it now, that soft look of love that always sparkled in the other’s irises. That was what he fought for every day on the ice, that was the look that drove him to do better. Yuuri’s sheer adoration and belief in Viktor from the start was all that he needed to keep being the best version of himself that he could be. Even without Yuuri in his life, giving up wasn’t an option.

                He would always, _always_ skate for Yuuri Katsuki.

                A distracted spread eagle had taken him into a shaky triple toe loop, an unconscious effort his body made out of habit alone, which sent him spiraling down onto the ice. When had been the last time he had failed a jump like that? Could he even remember when he had last touched down on the ice like this? Did he want to?

                Yuuri’s face twisted uncomfortably when Viktor landed hard on the ice, shaking and unwilling to stand in the center of the rink. This was why he chose to skate alone in the odd hours of the morning, the silence that surrounded him only carried the impact of his fall throughout empty corridors and beyond sealed doors. No one could see him fall apart, not a soul could impede on his private time to mourn by himself. There wasn’t anyone to take pity on him and skate out there to help him up.

                Viktor created a safe space for himself that gave him the power to pick himself back up when he was ready, and as much as it pained Yuuri to watch every day from the boards he was acutely aware he couldn’t rush the other man to stand. Viktor would get up when he was ready, he would move on when his heart said he could. This would happen on his terms. No one else’s.

                With a soft, concerned sigh Yuuri glided over to the Russian on the ice, his wings acting to keep him balanced with his slow movements. It wasn’t like Viktor could see him, or Phichit for that matter, but he was no less cautious whenever he approached his lover.

                Could he still call Viktor that? In death, as his guardian angel, was it right to keep himself in that role? Responsible? His love hadn’t weakened in the wake of his death, and seeing the figure skating legend himself mourn on his own seemed to endear him more. He couldn’t ever _stop_ loving Viktor, but Yuuri remembered what Phichit had said.

                _“I think it might be safe to assume that your best bet of protecting him is to make sure you save him from himself.”_

The angel slowed himself to a quiet halt above the fallen figure, eyes trailing over his curled form in pity before his ears picked up the distinct sound of quiet sobs. It killed him, twice over, to see Viktor shaking there beneath him, tears shamefully falling from his eyes as he pressed the heels of his hands to them in a vain attempt to quell them. Even alone he didn’t want to seem weak, and up until Viktor had been wracked with the death of his fiancé, his hovering guardian could count the times he had seen the other man cry on one hand. He still wasn’t used to it.

                “ _Chert voz’mi_!” He cried, one trembling, pale fist slamming itself down on the ice with a force that had yet to be seen from him. The exclamation reverberated off the high walls, raining down on them with an ominous reiteration of his anger. Viktor Nikiforov was falling apart, Yuuri could see that much, “ _Ya ne mogu bol’she etogo delat’_.”

                It was barely a whisper, but it pierced through Yuuri like a cold blade made with the intent to chill him. They had been in Russia for just a little over a year, their lives and love joined as one with the move. It was easier for them this way; no separation, no one having to miss out on competing just to be with the other. It was the only solution that made sense, the only one that kept them together. It was, also, the only reason Yuuri had started to learn Russian to begin with. Communicating here in English was hard enough, but he couldn’t always rely on Viktor or Yuri to be with him if he needed something from other citizens of Saint Petersburg. He had to be independent, even if only a little.

                But he knew enough of the foreign tongue to make out that quiet plea, whispered against the frigid surface of the ice beneath them and to nothing and no one else. He was giving up, but only on himself. Viktor wasn’t one to let anyone else know he was done, he was too proud to admit defeat when people expected so much more of him. Yuuri would expect so much more of him.

                Though he didn’t. Not now, nor ever, would he expect Viktor to be more than the man that he was. He would never have pushed him to ‘get over it’ or ‘move on’. They had both lost so much, fought through eons of heartache just to find solace in each other, and through the thin walls of the second plane Yuuri found himself growing increasingly impatient with letting Viktor suffer like this.

                “I’m right here,” he consoled, squatting down and wrapping his arms around the colder man in a hug. It would be nothing but noticeable warmth to the Russian, he knew that, but it was something. The only consolation his guardian could offer through their differing realities. A gentle hand reached up, brushed back fine Silver fringe away from tired, wet eyes, and pink lips moved for form a circle as he cooed and shushed his lover, “Darling, I’m right here. I’m right here, don’t give up. I’ve got you.”

                He wasn’t sure if he was talking to himself or the trembling mortal in his arms, but it wasn’t like the man could hear him and Yuuri couldn’t give up regardless. He was still needed, regardless of where his soul was. Phichit hovered above them, wings holding him steady for observation, and he offered the Japanese divine a consoling look, “It’s not easy, it never is. I know. Just… Keep focused, okay? Never stop fighting for him.”

                “I won’t, I just…” his voice trailed, eyes moving from his watchful guide back down to his sobbing charge and he sighed, “I just want him to know I’m here. I just want to make him all right.” It was a tall order, especially so soon. He wanted Viktor to know that it was _Yuuri_ comforting him in that moment. It wasn’t an odd anomaly, it wasn’t some strange temperature variance in the rink, but it was _him._ It was always, _always_ going to be him.

                He pressed his face in the crook of a pale neck, inhaling his cool, crisp scent with a slight waver to his breathing. Holding him again was nice, his body ached to console him in times like this. Phichit hadn’t quite gotten to go over the nuances of guardianship, but he wasn’t entirely sure if the ache was natural to his new form, or an overlapping desire he had from when he was alive himself. There was a lot he didn’t know, and comforting Viktor was always something that eluded him.

                “ _Sukidayo.”_ It was quiet, intimate, almost a whispered confession to the ice rather than Viktor himself, but even falling on deaf ears it was an admission he rarely ever brought up. He loved Viktor in the most raw, primal way he could. There was an innate need to be with him, something that had him throwing caution to the wind and packing up to move to Russia with a man he had fallen for over the expanse of eight months. If it hadn’t been for Phichit’s talk about their shared soul, he would have just assumed he was desperate or a fool.

                Probably both.

                He placed a gentle hand to Viktor’s slowly rising chest, lips ghosting along the shell of his ear in a kiss, and he shifted so he could pull himself closer, “ _Watashi wa koko ni tadashiku aru.”_ His companion stirred a bit, pulling himself away from the enveloping warmth to rub away at the stray tears that had defied him. It tugged at Yuuri’s heart strings, the ghosts of the ones that had once been there, seeing Viktor like this. Damaged, stubborn, defeated; it brought a look of worn hurt across his features, a gentleness that was almost foreign to him at this point. He looked so young like this, tears clinging to silver lashes, cheeks flushed and eyes swollen. He didn’t look like a man who would turn thirty in the next year.

                But his eyes, small lakes of blue that captured him with frozen emotions, flicked up in his direction, wide and confused and for a small moment Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat. It was so soon. There was no way he could see him now, not just after he held him close. He should have to do more, Viktor was _stubborn._ He fought tooth and nail against everything he didn’t want to face and having to accept the fact that the man that made his heart sing was sitting on his knees in front of him with those white and gold wings fanning out from behind him wouldn’t be something he’d so easily be swayed by.

                “Yuuri…?”

                Or so he thought.

                “Viktor,” he breathed, eyes wide and sparkling again. Maybe it was confusion, this was quite the sudden change of pace for the three of them, after all, that had his eyes lighting up again. This couldn’t be _real_. There just wasn’t any way that was possible, he hadn’t done anything yet to make this happen. He hadn’t made Viktor believe in him yet, so this was just a dream, right?

                Angels still had dreams?

                “What… What the hell is going on?” His voice was cold, eyes glazing over with warning as he backed away from the Japanese man before him; Yuuri knew better than to reach out, as badly as he wanted to, and instead raised his hands up defensively and waved them back and forth.

                “Hey, it’s me. I promise, okay? I’m here, I really am, and I swear you’re not dreaming. You haven’t… Gone mad, or anything, I can see that hesitation in your eyes.” Viktor blinked, one hand reaching up to run his right middle finger across the hollows of his eyes before Yuuri continued, “You have to trust me, okay? There’s a lot to say, and I can’t say it will make any sense, but you have to do that much for me.”

                With slight hesitation, Viktor looked him over. It was a sight to take in, the form of his dead lover in front of him with two blinding wings that had escaped from his back to hover out behind him. He had to be dreaming, right? He hit his head too hard on the ice, never woke up this morning and this was just all a bad nightmare. He wanted to hesitate and fight, to run away and wake up, but he couldn’t. Something in his chest anchored him here, and he reached out a trembling hand to caress the features of his dearly departed.

                Yuuri made no effort to move, eyes slipping shut as Viktor used every ounce of caution in his body to examine him from his spot. His thumb ghosted over his cheek, hesitant and unsure before it flicked across his bottom lip. A smile tugged them up, the many memories of the other man applying balm to his chapped lips washing over him like a calm rain. His eyes stayed shut, but he could feel Viktor move closer in his waking curiosity.

                Those gentle fingers moved to pull the glasses from his face, one eye peeking open to watch as he turned them over in his hand. He could feel them, it was real; this was all so very, very real. Viktor glanced back up to see a gentle, warming smile, and it was Yuuri this time who moved closer and placed his hands over Viktor’s in his lap, “Trust me, remember? I’m real. I’m right here, you can feel me. You can see me. I would never, _ever_ lie to you. You know that.”

                The world shifts when his charge moves to place his glasses back on his face, hands falling to either side of him to hold him steady for a moment, “ _Dorogoy.”_ It was quiet, and Yuuri would have missed it if it hadn’t been for Viktor’s hands on either side of his face holding him steady. He offered a soft nod and placed one hand over the matching partner the other man sported, eyes warm and calm, “Yeah, Viktor. It’s me.” The hands on his face start to tremble, two thumbs shaking as they drag over Yuuri’s cheekbones. His eyes never leave those copper and honey irises his guardian wore proud, searching and needy as his own frozen lakes shattered.

                He was crying again, but it was through confused joy this time around and not desperate, biting loneliness that was brought about by mourning. “How are you here,” he questioned, voice as soft as ever, “We buried you, I saw it. I saw _you_ in the casket, how are you… Here? Like this? And those,” He tipped his head to gesture to Yuuri’s wings before drawing his gaze back, “How did they become…. Part of you?”

                “I told you, there’s a lot to talk about. We can go home, if you’d like? Talk there? It’s probably better than sitting here on the ice and risk anyone… You know, walking in to you talking to yourself.”

                “Myself?”

                “Well I purposefully haven’t let you see me up until now, not until you believed I was here. The team isn’t going to see anything except you sitting alone in a rink that you only bothered two turn three lights on in. Probably wouldn’t give the best impression?” Viktor hummed thoughtfully, withdrawing only one hand from Yuuri’s face so he could entwine their fingers together as he offered up a small nod.

                “Yes, you’re right. Besides,” he purrs, tugging the angel closer to his person, “I just need some time alone with you. I just… Need you.”

                A soft smile presses into the gentle features of the divine Viktor had cradled in his arms, the man’s own shifting to wrap around the other’s slender neck to help ground himself to his partner, “I know. I get it, I do. I needed you too.” He pulls himself closer for a hug, wings arching up and out of the way so Viktor could reciprocate the gesture with mostly ease. Brown eyes lift up, smiling on their own to the guide who helped get him here, the only one out of the three of them that seemed to have the hardest time coping with their reunion and was brushing away joyful tears of his own, “I’ll catch up with you, okay Phichit? We’ll talk later.”

                A shift underneath him has him pulling back enough that Viktor could follow his gaze up, the Russian left to gawk awkwardly at the second angel hovering above them with a smile on his face, “Sure thing, Yuuri. Hi, Viktor! I’m Phichit, Yuuri’s guide. Go easy on him, he’s still learning the ropes. I won’t be far if you need me, okay?”

                “Yeah, all right. Take a break or something. You’ve earned it.”

                A soft laugh escaped the other divine’s pursed lips, and with a wink he gestured to the three of them, “It’s been a long five months. I think we all have earned a break.”

* * *

 

                Home was… Better, when he wasn’t stuck on the second plane, waning through existence unsure of what he could or couldn’t do, careful not to disturb much in the apartment lest Viktor grow suspicious. The last thing a divine needed was to have their meddling confused with something supernatural, more along the lines of a ghost than an angel. The presence of an exorcist could make things awkward, and he’d be outed before his job was completed. It wasn’t worth the risk, so he was careful and tried to stay stationary as often as he could.

                “I’d say make yourself at home, but you’re there anyway.” The light laughter was appreciated, the mood lifting just enough to ease Yuuri back into a calmer state as he shuffled into the apartment behind Viktor. It was nice to be back home without the muted colors and limitations, know regardless of what he was or what had happened he still had every right to make this his sanctuary.

                With Viktor, this time. He wasn’t fighting things alone anymore.

                “Do you, uh, need anything? Water, coffee, drinks? Are you hungry?” The door clicked shut behind the paler man, his eyes curious and lingering over Yuuri’s quiet form on the couch as he droned on his line of questioning. It was expected, they were Viktor’s typical pleasantries after all, but there was an underlying curiosity about his words that had Yuuri shaking his head ‘no’ with a smile.

                “I’m fine, really. I don’t… I don’t have a need for them, anymore. Not really, anyway. I _can_ eat and drink, if I want to, but it doesn’t do anything for me. I’m not really alive as it is.”

                “May I get you some coffee then, to at least make _me_ feel better?”

                Yuuri’s smile doesn’t fade, only softens, and with a gentle nod he turns around in his spot on the couch and watches as Viktor makes his way into the kitchen, “Can’t hold a conversation with your fiancé anymore without having something to distract you, huh?” The Russian shot him a pleading look, a glance that only elicited in bubbly laughter out of the other man, and he sighed.

                “I could talk to you until I was blue in the face, but I want coffee, and I’m not going to sit around with a cup of my own and not make my _fiancé_ some too. I haven’t had coffee with anyone in five months, the least you could do is indulge me.”

                “I _am_ indulging you, Viktor! I don’t need to, but I’m patiently waiting for the perfectly brewed cup of Joe that only you could make anyways. You’re going to indulge me, anyways. It’s the least I could do.” The skater scoffs, blue eyes rolling in one clean spin as he turned to the coffee maker and popped in a pod. Easy, personal, fast, and something Yuuri had insisted they buy when he had realized how hectic their mornings really had gotten. It was just one step further into domesticity, Viktor never one to fight or argue when it came to the other man adding his personal touch to their home.

                _Our home,_ the angel mused to himself, chin propped up on his folded arms as he watched the only one between the two of them that was grounded to the mortal world move about the space to grab two mugs. Both were white with black handles, a matching set with a painted _V_ and _Y_ on either ceramic piece that Yuri had bought for them when their move had been official.

                _“It’s my housewarming gift, don’t read into it. It’s all you’re getting from me.”_

                “You still have them,” he drawls out, eyes inadvertently widening at the sight and the look on Viktor’s face is almost scandalized Yuuri had insinuated otherwise.

                “Of course I still have them. I haven’t thrown out any of your stuff. I sent some back to your parents, when they asked, but they wanted me to keep most of it. Your home was always with me, Yuuri. It’s only been five months, after all.”

                He felt himself shifting on the couch, curling up a bit as his wings folded in and tucked against his back. It _had_ only been five months, but even then, wasn’t it natural to move on? He wouldn’t have been upset if Viktor had gotten rid of his things, it made sense to him. Could he comfortably say that, if the tables had been turned, he’d have done the same to Viktor’s belongings? Could he have pushed him out of his life so easily in a vain hope that it would make the pain go away?

                It sickened a deeper part of him to know there was always a chance he wouldn’t hesitate if that situation presented itself.

                “I could never, ever just give you up like that, Yuuri. You were… _are_ my everything, my world. I can’t throw out things that were yours, I can’t just get rid of objects that gave me memories of you. I had to cling to whatever I had left, I already lost you.”

                He stayed quiet from his spot, expression more distant as Viktor spoke and he drew his gaze from the man brewing the last cup of coffee to the outside scene of Saint Petersburg in March; it was still early, only six in the morning by the time they had made it back, and the sun still hid behind the veil of darkness outside. The streetlights illuminated the roads below, the flurries of snow drifting past their window and under the illuminated orange spotlights distracting him from their previous talk. He wasn’t hiding anymore. There was a warm smell of instant coffee in the air, and the warm feeling of Viktor shifting him forward enough to settle in behind him before Yuuri would lean back and relax, taking his cup from the other man so he could sip it thoughtfully. This was what home felt like, with one of the older man’s arms loose around his middle, pointed chin rested on the crown of his head as they both looked on at the snowfall in silence.

                It was five months of _nothing_ that suddenly boiled into thirty minutes of quiet intimacy, the only lights that pooled into the room had been from the streetlamps outside. It was better this way, the two of them pressed together on the couch, the silence blanketing them in a comfort neither have had in so long. It was the peace of knowing things were going to get better, that Yuuri could finally do his job and protect the other man, and Viktor didn’t have to go through life without him anymore.

                No matter what, Yuuri was here to say.

                “Talk, _zolotse._ I’m eager to hear your story.” Viktor’s voice was a tender, encouraging hum against the younger’s ear. How could he even start to explain this whole situation when he didn’t even remember how he died? Was it appropriate to actually pretend that he had all the answers, when he had more questions himself than he was sure Viktor did? With a soft sigh, he placed his mug down on the nearby end table, lolling his head to the side so it rested comfortably on Viktor’s shoulder, and he let his eyes drift shut.

                “I don’t… Remember how I died, I’ll start there. I want to know, eventually, when the wound isn’t so fresh on my mind, but right now I think I’m better living in the ignorant bliss forgetting has given me. When you all buried me, and tossed your coins into my grave to pay for my soul’s passage, you actually helped finish bringing me back, even if it was in this form.” He pauses, shifts so he can look up to observe the other’s reactions as he speaks, and carries on, “I was reborn, Phichit said. When I was born originally, my soul was one of a divine’s. Typically we’re just… Crafted into angels, but I was a rare case.

                “I’m what they call an Earth Angel, the first of my kind. I was sent to Earth as a mortal to find you. Our souls are connected, apparently. Kind of like soulmates, they said, but only because you’re a special case. I was always meant to be your guardian angel, but I had to find you first. I didn’t necessarily have to fall in _love_ with you, but I did, and honestly I only think it helped you believe in me faster than I actually expected you to.”

                Viktor gave a soft hum of understanding, eyes peering down at the angel in his arms as he mulled over a few questions buzzing in his head, “It’s certainly a lot to swallow, yeah. But I believe you, it’s crazy enough to make sense. What do you mean I’m different, though?”

                Yuuri gave a shrug, shifting to roll onto his side so he could roll one of the strings to Viktor’s hoodie in between his thumb and forefinger in a subtle attempt to distract himself, “They didn’t tell me. Phichit said they had been keeping an eye on you for a while, well before I had been reborn, but it was my job to watch over and protect you. Maybe it’s your endless amounts of charm that has them stumped.”

                “I’m sure they have a reason, I’m just surprised they haven’t figured anything out. Aren’t angels supposed to be all knowing, or something?”

                “Ah, in a way, I guess? About our charges, anyway. But you’re mine, not theirs. It makes sense that, out of everyone, I know the most about you. Nothing strikes me as odd other than how much food you’ve always been able to put away without gaining a single pound.” His voice drifted into a quiet pout, knees tucking in close under Viktor’s much longer, slender legs. It was nice to curl up against him like this.

                Nice to just exist and be acknowledged and be held by the one person who mattered right now.

                “I wouldn’t say that’s weird, it’s just my metabolism. Not my fault mine works overtime.”

                “ _No,_ but I have every right to be jealous regardless. I don’t think it matters much anymore, though, so I guess we’re even.” There’s a momentary pause between them, and Viktor moves enough to slip out from underneath the shorter man before squatting down beside him and pressing a soft, tentative kiss to his forehead.

                “You’re right. Take a bit to rest up, okay? I need to make a call.”

                “All right, sounds good to me.”

                _One more for the road,_ Viktor voices inwardly, pressing another, much less hesitant peck to Yuuri’s nose right as he moved to stand and shuffle down to their room. Yuuri only watched long enough to see the other man slip into the bedroom, before he settled back down on his stomach and took the quiet time alone to rest some.

                The soft click of the door gives the Russian man his confidence to pull his phone out of his pocket, hand hovering above the knob for a minute as he dials a number then promptly locks the door. Precautionary measures, after all. Not even an angel should eavesdrop, but Viktor wasn’t the kind of man to take his chances where they counted.

                “ _Hello?”_

“Chris, hello.”

                _“Ah, Viktor, to what do I owe this pleasure, hm?”_

A pause, and Viktor backs away from the door so he could settle at the foot of the bed, “We have a problem.”

                The other line goes silent for a minute before the tell-tale sounds of Chris moving to sit up could be heard and he breathes low into the receiver, voice a low whisper, _“What’s going on?”_

“Yuuri’s back.”

                _“Oh? Congratulations, what a surprise.”_

“He’s an angel, Chris. Earth Angel. _The_ Earth Angel.”

                More silence, and at this point in their conversation the Russian man can hear the Swiss move to lock his own door before heading back to where he had been previously. At least, at this point, they were on the same page. They always had been, after all, they had known each other for so long. Chris was Viktor’s confidant, especially when it came to situations like this.

                _“Shit. Does he know, then? Did you tell him anything?”_

“No, God no. I’m not about to lose him over this, Chris, I just got him back.”

                _“But he’s also dangerous to you. Does The Council think they were smooth sending your lover boy back to watch over you? Did they think it would, I don’t know, stop you from doing anything malicious?”_

“Probably, this is The Council we’re talking about. I trust him, though. He’s not going to hurt me.” His voice was quiet, but stern, a pressing tone to his words that only challenged Chris to argue otherwise. The noncommittal hum on the other line only gave him the knowledge that his friend wasn’t looking to argue today, but instead provide some intuition towards the situation presented to them.

                _“I don’t think he would, either. But what about you? Do you care more about your title, or the man you love?”_

“I will always put Yuuri first, Chris, you know that.”

                _“Then perhaps you be honest with him, yeah? He is_ your _guardian angel, after all. As hilarious as that is, he exists now to protect you. This is something you two have to fight together.”_

A slight pause on Viktor’s end as Yuuri gets up to pad into the bathroom down the hallway, and a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding falls upon deaf ears as he scoots back closer to his window and concludes, “I know. I know we will, but this isn’t just Yuuri and myself. We’re going up against The Council and The Order here. No one fighting for either side has teamed up to take them down.”

                _“Then it looks like you two will be the first, how sweet. The love birds reunited to fight the good fight. You know I will always have your back, Viktor. Whatever you do, I will support you.”_

“You’ll have to work with me on this, then. And you’ll have to work _willingly_ with the divines. You know that, right?”

                _“I know, Viktor, yes. I’m, unfortunately, very aware of what this means for me.”_

“This is going to change everything, Chris. Not just for Yuuri and I, but for all of us.”

                _“You had better hope it does._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOT. Sure how I feel about this chapter. I felt weird the whole time writing it, so I may end up redoing it but????? Needed movement in the story, and trust me the angst isn't over, I promise. 
> 
> Unbeta'd as always, so if you see mistakes feel free to let me know!
> 
> Translations for you all:  
> Chert voz’mi- Dammit  
> Ya ne mogu bol’she etogo delat’- I can't do this anymore  
> Sukidayo- I love you  
> Watashi wa koko ni tadashiku aru- I'm right here  
> Dorogoy- Darling  
> Zolotse- My gold (Affectionate Russian term)
> 
> Whoops, also, purposely being vague at the end. SOMEONE has a secret, after all. 83c
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @ [Megalohdon](http://megalohdon.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Gee, Ash, who let you have two YoI fics at once?  
> Me, I did.
> 
> I'm still DEFINITELY working on "By Fate's Side", but I saw a post today that implied Yuuri had died, and how Viktor hadn't remarried afterwards and that inspired me to pick up an old AU I did for a fandom I was previously in before. I've seen a LOT of demon AUs for YoI so far, but I haven't come across any relating to angels and the mythology around them.
> 
> I want it to be noted that this is a non-religious AU. I know I'm using angels and a lot of language that may make you think otherwise, but I myself am non-religious, and the angels in this AU are simply guardian deities sent from the higher powers to protect the mortals on Earth. Yuuri was just an unlucky case.
> 
> (And I purposefully didn't touch on the HOW in regards to his death, that will come up later, I promise!)
> 
> If you enjoy this fic please leave a kudos and/or a comment. Comments fuel my muse and keep me motivated! Bear in mind, this is unbeta'd, as are all of my works. If you see typos/grammatical errors, feel free to let me know! I don't always catch them and, hell, I don't always read back over what I write.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr @ [Megalohdon](http://megalohdon.tumblr.com). Thank you!
> 
> Also: Title inspiration came from Back to Earth by Steve Aoki FT Fall Out Boy. Listen [HERE](https://youtu.be/GUFvedRFijY)!


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